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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367145">nightmares</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_poprocks/pseuds/starlight_poprocks'>starlight_poprocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>old haunts (The Arcana) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Asra/Julian Devorak, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Talk, discussion of sex, lots of hair petting, mention of praise kink, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:53:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_poprocks/pseuds/starlight_poprocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>asra helps you face the ghosts of your past</p><p>(gender neutral reader in part 1. reader is explicitly written as trans ftm in part 2)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>old haunts (The Arcana) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a vent. this is directly referencing my own experiences. i wasn't going to post it originally, but im choosing to cause maybe it'll be comforting to someone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s bright. So bright you have to squint. So bright tears prick at the corners of your eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shadows loom over you, and you feel so very small. The shadows coalesce and form into one giant shadow towering high above you, darkness falling across your face. You look up, but you can’t see the face of the shadow. It’s still too bright, somehow. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hands ghost over your skin. You stiffen every time one comes close, but never touching. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One grabs your left wrist and tugs you along so quickly you stumble to keep up. Your protests go unheard, and after once or twice, die completely in your throat before you can get them out. The hand is squeezing so tight the tips of your fingers feel numb. When it finally lets go, purple, blue and green color your skin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You fall to your knees to catch your breath, only you can’t breathe, and you’re gasping, gasping, gasping- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then you’re awake. The dark is comforting. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust and your brain to catch up. You glance over to your side. The spot where Asra sleeps is empty, imprinted with his shape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You still can't breathe. Your heart feels like it’s jumped in your throat and gotten stuck there, and someone’s just stuffed your skull full of cotton in place of your brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra is standing in the doorway, staring at you sitting upright in bed. His bleary look turns to surprise and worry. “You’re crying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You touch your cheek. It’s hot and wet. “Oh.” You hadn’t realized. How had you not realized you were crying? You suddenly feel sick. And acutely aware of yourself. Of the fabric of your clothes itching on your skin. Of your toes touching underneath the covers. Of the way Asra is looking at you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” He asks, coming to crawl back into bed with you. You frantically wipe away your tears with the back of your hands, rubbing your face dry as fast as you possibly can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” you answer quickly. It comes out far more defensive than you meant it. Asra gives a pouty look and you absently pinch at the rough skin on your knee. “No. Well… I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand touches your bare thigh. You don’t even register it was Asra’s hand before you gasp sharply and jump away on instinct. You see a flicker of hurt cross Asra’s face for a split second before he looks officially concerned for you. His hand is still outstretched from where you flinched away, fingers curled back as if his touch had burned you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s eyes are soft and sad, and disgust settles into the pit of your stomach. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t pity me, Asra. I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Stop looking at me like that. Stop looking at me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to me,” Asra whispers. He’s pulled his hand back and you feel bad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at you, you hurt him. Had to go and make things difficult, didn’t you? Everything would be better if you just shut up and stopped annoying everyone with your existence, yet here you are, being useless and a drain and you cried, how pathetic. Asra can’t see it but I can. I don’t deserve his love. Pathetic useless useless useless. Your fault- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s voice snaps you back to reality. Or, at least as real as reality can get. You don’t say anything. Instead, you bunch your knees to your chest and hold your shins close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can't help if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Asra says, leaning back onto the mound of pillows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t,” you find yourself blurting. “You don’t have to help me. I’m fine. It’s not important. Please don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now I’m going to worry more,” Asra says. He scoots just a little bit closer to you. “Whatever it is, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously </span>
  </em>
  <span>important to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re made aware just how much of a mess you are right now. “I know I look pathetic,” you mutter. “I- it’s-” you sigh. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I-” Asra stops to comb a hand through his hair. “That isn’t what I meant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hug your knees tighter. “I know.” It’s barely audible, but you know Asra hears it because he relaxes a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence causes your thoughts to take over. Thoughts that aren’t one hundred percent yours. You flop back onto your side, curled in the fetal position with your back to Asra. You pull the blanket over you and hope he thinks you’re attempting to go back to sleep. Truthfully, your eyes are wide open, staring at the wall as memories and thoughts bounce around your head, worse and worse as the silence stretches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra is oh so patient with you. You can still feel his eyes on you. Waiting for you to say something. Watching your sides rise and fall and </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re not asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You speak up before you can second guess yourself. “Do you remember when we were kids?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel Asra shift on the bed. “Yes. Do… do you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re stroking the side of your arm up and down with your index finger as you hold yourself. “Some of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet goes on for a minute. Or two. Or forever. Finding the right words feels impossible. So why try? Because… because you want to. You want to try. Try to say something. Try to explain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll over to face Asra. “Hold me,” you whisper. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra obliges, and you know he’s been aching to this whole time by the way he squeezes you close to his chest like if he loosens his hold you might disappear. You place a hand softly over his heart before pressing your ear over it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heartbeat is the most soothing thing in the world. Softly going </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump-thump, thump-thump </span>
  </em>
  <span>in your ear, beating to the rhythm of yours, which was also technically also his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You could lay like that forever, but when you close your eyes, your dream (memory?) is waiting for you behind your eyelids and you snap your eyes open again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra is running a hand through your hair and you wish that he would never stop. His hand brushes your bangs from your face, tracing its way down your scalp to back behind your ear. You finally feel like you’re able to breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the only person I like touching me,” you whisper. You can feel him breathing as you lay on his chest, fingers drawing over his pec where you know the magic sigil binding you both lay invisible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra squeezes you a little, like a half hug. “Well, good.” He combs your hair out of your eyes to look down at you. “I like touching you, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His patience is a godsend. If it wasn’t for that, you’re not sure what you’d do. “You make me feel safe,” you go on. “Everything else just… melts away.” You’re tracing the sigil again. “There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe- or- or happy again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You think of the shadowy hands again, and they threaten to drag you back under a lightless ocean. You take a shaky breath that feels like you just inhaled incense ash. Focusing on the wholesome way Asra is holding you is the only way you’re able to catch your breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I think about it… I feel like it couldn’t have actually been me,” you admit under your breath. “Like they’re someone else’s memories. But they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I did those things and it happened to me and my hands feel all </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re making little sense as you stare at your now shaking hands. You can still see the bruises on your left wrist in the shape of fingerprints. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s fingers entangle yours and he twists your hand so he can kiss the back of it. “Your hands are not dirty,” he says with such certainty it shocks you. He brings your left hand to cup his cheek. “See? I like your hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow a lump in your throat. Then, you shake your head, as if trying to rid yourself of the memories plaguing you. You snatch your hand back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- you don’t know what I’m even talking about,” you stammer, looking away. You hold your left hand like it’s injured, stroking it with your right thumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra tilts his head to the side. “Actually, I think I do. You told me. Before…” Before you died, is what he means to say. You sit up and gape at him. Then a flood hits you, and you scramble away from him before he can react. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S- sorry!” You gasp. You’re on the opposite end of the bed now, heart hammering against your chest, threatening to burst out. Your hands are cold and clammy and you’ve forgotten how to breathe again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must think so lowly of me,” you say, voice wavering. Your vision is blurry as you accumulate tears you refuse to cry. “It’s my- my- my fault. I wish I had been stronger. Smarter!” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Noses are stupid,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you think as you sniff and you feel the snot collect in the back of your throat. “I was a kid and- and I feel so fucking small and helpless and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and they- he- I- I’m broken. They broke me and I’m never getting put back together again, and- I just- I was just a kid and they- why would- I don’t- I’m- I’m broken, I’m broken, I’m broke-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me. Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cut off your word vomit to look up at Asra. You’re sure you look the worst, but he still looks at you with such adoration it hurts. You’re gasping for breath with every shudder, but it’s too short and you feel lightheaded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gimme your hands.” Asra holds out his hands and scooches closer to you on his knees. It’s an unintimidating way of approaching you, and you try to focus on how he smells like lavender and sandalwood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trembling, you outstretch your hands and he takes them into his. His fingertips have calluses, but they’re so warm and familiar you’re able to relax your shaking hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra brings your left hand up to his heart. You can feel it beating. It’s out of sync with yours, which is still racing, and that unsettles you to your core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel my heartbeat,” Asra tells you. “Breathe with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You suck in air. It comes too quickly and all at once that you cough and you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel like you’re coughing up shards of glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, shhh,” he hushes gently. “Slower this time. It’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you push that away. It comes unbearably shaky, like your lungs are windchimes and even the slightest breath causes them to rattle, but you breathe in all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And out,” Asra says. He exhales to demonstrate and you imitate him. It hurts slightly less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I- I’m sorry,” you manage through your struggling breaths. “S- sor- sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s thumb brushes back and forth the back of your hand. “Don’t be sorry. Just breathe for me, okay?” His words are too gentle. Too loving. Too </span>
  <em>
    <span>understanding. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It feels like a dagger being driven through your chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hate being seen like this. You want to wipe your slate clean all over again, forget everything, but that would mean forgetting Asra again, and that thought hurts more than the memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t broken, you know,” Asra says, splitting the silence. “Hurting and broken aren’t synonymous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look up at him with watery doe eyes. “But- but I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regardless of what you did or didn’t do, that doesn’t change one thing.” Asra holds your face with both hands in such a gentle way it makes your heart ache. “You never asked for any of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears spill over. You’ve been keeping them in your eyes for as long as you could but you feel like you’ve just been thrown into the deep end with no warning. You blink and they barely roll down your cheeks before Asra thumbs them away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold onto Asra’s forearm. “I- I didn’t wa- want it.” The rock in your throat won’t go down, and you’re shaking your head back and forth. “None of it, not even a little. I told myself I did but every time, I felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting </span>
  </em>
  <span>and unclean and hollow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses your forehead. You falter for a moment. His lips are soft and the gesture is so tender and affectionate you feel like your heart is swelling. His hands are still holding your face and he gently bonks his forehead to his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you didn’t,” he whispers. The tips of your noses are touching. “I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such a simple thing to say. I know. Yet it sends you over the edge, burying your face into Asra with a choked back wail. Your short nails dig slightly into his golden-brown skin, looking for something to clutch to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra presses a kiss to your hair right at the top of your head from where you’re clinging to him with a desperate intensity. You feel if you let go you’ll fall and keep falling forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you need right now?” Asra asks quietly. “I could go and-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” You gasp, white-knucling his arm. You loosen your grip instantly, feeling guilty. “P- please. Stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra turns his attention back to you. “Okay.” His voice is quieter. “I can do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow it fails to register, because all your brain keeps focusing on is </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I could go’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and terror seizes you. “Don’t go, don’t go,” you beg. You feel powerless all over again. “Don’t leave me too, please, please, don’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise.” Asra starts combing through your hair again and you instantly start to feel yourself calming down. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone. You don’t have to be alone again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You exhale shakily. You hold onto him like he might disappear. He moves a hand to push your bangs out of your face. Your forehead is beaded with cold sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want a wet cloth?” Asra asks. “We’ll both go,” he says, before the panic has a chance to settle in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of moving and getting up and </span>
  <em>
    <span>walking </span>
  </em>
  <span>is agonizing, but you can feel the snot dripping down your upper lip and your eyes are starting to feel crusty as your tears dry. You nod once, forcing yourself off the bed with Asra. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You feel like a completely different person, clinging to Asra’s waist like a helpless child. You want to think it’s pathetic, but Asra just lifts his arm and wraps it around your shoulder to pull you closer to him and you feel a little less tense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra steers you to the bathroom and gently pries you off him to sit you on the edge of the bathtub. Every last drop of stubbornness and any part of you that would protest or make it into a joke has been sucked out, leaving a husk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs a washcloth from the cabinet and runs it under hot water. It’s an eyesore of a pattern, red and green and yellow swirling in vague floral shapes, but it’s so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asra. </span>
  </em>
  <span>So much so that he has a matching towel. In fact, everything he’s doing for you is so very him that it hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s too nice sometimes. He’s too nice to me, I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You find crocodile tears overflowing again before you can blink them away. You sit quietly, resigned to not making a sound with your hands folded in your lap as your eyes burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Asra turns around with the washcloth ready, he falters for a moment, surprised to see you crying again without a sound. It’s only really successful because you’re holding your breath in so as not to choke on air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra gets down on his knees to be at eye level with you and he folds a corner of the washcloth over into a point. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, wiping away the fresh tears. “I’m right here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a shuddering breath, your lungs feeling like they might burst. Your heart throbs laboriously in your chest as Asra gently strokes the warm washcloth around the corners of your eyes and under, then down to your cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sniffle, and Asra moves the washcloth to your upper lip, effectively wiping away the runniness that’s left a salty taste in your mouth mixed with tears. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” you mumble. Guilt snakes around you, threatening to swallow you in one fell swoop. Shame burns in the wake of your fresh tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to apologize,” Asra reminds you softly. He wipes away the tears that continue to leak out no matter how hard you try to stop them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t deserve you,” you choke out. “This. Any of it. You shouldn’t have to put up with me. You… you deserve better.” Your voice is raw and nasally, and you fiddle with your thumbs in your lap. You can’t meet his eyes, staring at your hands feebly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra cups your chin with his thumb and index finger gently to get you to look up at him. His face is blurry through your swimming eyes, but you could recognize that glint in his eyes. The glint that tells you he would make everything better if he could, and you know he wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helping you navigate the storm of a bad day is not ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>putting up’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>with you,” Asra says firmly. “I don’t want to pick and choose the pieces of you I want, because I want it all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folds the washcloth over to wipe the shiny trail off your cheeks. You stay mute, stunned into silence. Your brain refuses to comprehend it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra must see the dumbfounded look on your face, because he holds your face with both hands for emphasis. “I mean it. When I say I love you, I’m not just talking about the you that laughs at Julian’s drunk table dancing, or the you that sat still for three hours because Pepi fell asleep on your knee, or the you that outsmarted the Devil. I’m talking about this you, too. I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold Asra’s hands on your face, keeping them cupping your cheeks so perfectly, like his hands were crafted to hold you like this. You close your eyes, sighing softly. Your eyelashes stick together, so you open your eyes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” It comes out as a choked little whisper. You omit the fact you are currently beating at your brain with a stick as it tries to convince you otherwise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, shut up, shut up. He just said he loves you. He loves you. He doesn’t hate you. He loves you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Only there’s more. “What if I tricked you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra tips his head to one side. “Tricked me how?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Into loving me.” You pull your face away from his hands reluctantly, far too repulsed with yourself to bear his tender touch. “What if I’m so bad I manipulated you into loving me- in- into feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad </span>
  </em>
  <span>for me? What if you realize it one day and leave? What- what if I can’t satisfy you like- I can’t- what if I’m everything they said I was?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s thumb strokes your cheek and it burns. “You always were a talented liar.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stiffen a little and stare at him blankly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So good it seems, you’ve fooled yourself into thinking it’s true.” Asra cards a hand through your hair. “But not good enough to fool me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink. He continues. “You fell in love with me twice. And stayed, knowing everything I’ve done wrong… But you still love me, despite my mistakes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod vehemently. “I love you, all of you; all I want is you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra eyes are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you it makes you melt inside. He never gets tired of hearing it, and you never get tired of saying it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how could you think I’d stop loving you for something that wasn’t your fault?” Asra asks. “You aren’t worth any less because of what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whine builds in your throat. You struggle to find the words to argue, any way to prove him wrong that </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes </span>
  </em>
  <span>you are beyond repair, a mess, a waste of time, but you fall short. “But… I…” is all you manage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet off of the edge of the tub. Your back was starting to ache from sitting hunched over. “Lay down?” Asra suggests. You’re still wrestling with yourself, so you just let him guide you to the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit cross legged with Asra across from you on his knees. “You still want me…? Knowing there’s a piece of me missing… that they took… you’re okay with that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra frowns. “I’m not okay with the fact that happened to you. But you’re still you. Whole or not.” He puts his hand over his heart. “I’m missing a piece of me, too, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinctively your hand goes to your heart too. Half of Asra’s. “I don’t deserve this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra raises an eyebrow thoughtfully. “I used to think it was wrong of me to want you. That it was safer- better- for both of us that I kept my distance. But that only hurt us both. Would you say I deserve love?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You already know where he’s going with this, and you’re searching for some excuse, some way out, but he’s got you trapped, using your twisted sense of logic against you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve the world,” you whisper. “Everything you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra smiles softly. “I want you,” he responds quietly. His words cradle you like the warmest hand-knitted blanket. “You’re my whole world.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You give. You stick your legs out and fall to your side on the bed, toes hanging off the edge. The pillows bounce as you collapse. “You’ve got me backed in a corner,” you grumble, twisting the edge of a frayed pillow case absently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra flops down beside you, eyes meeting yours. He looks sufficiently pleased with himself. “That’s the idea, love,” he says with his cat-like smirk. “Do you see now? You aren’t the exception to happiness. You deserve it, whether your brain tells you or not. And I’ll tell you as many times as it takes until you believe it too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re silent for a moment. “Tell me again. Please.” It’s barely a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra shuffles closer to you, so close the tips of your noses are touching and you could get lost in his deep lavender eyes. “You deserve to be happy,” he says with such certainty it would feel wrong to think otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make me happy,” you mumble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lay like that for a while, staring softly at one another. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and rest one leg atop his. Asra pulls you in by your lower hips and your chests touch. You can feel his heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One hand slides in your hair and you relax almost instantly. You don’t know how Asra always knew that it calms you down; it was probably something he found out when you were younger and it’s gone forgotten. But regardless, it works, and you can slowly feel the gaping hole in the center of your chest start to close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” It’s not something you’ve never said before. Hell, you said it a few hours ago before you went to bed. But right now, you’re not just saying I love you. It’s ‘I love what you do for me. I love how you make me feel when I’m with you. I love being with you.’ And it’s also ‘thank you. Thank you for being here for me.’ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you, too.” Asra had seen the storm of messy, jumbled emotions in your head. He had seen it and didn’t leave. He was still there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want a glass of water?” Asra asks, twirling a strand of hair in his fingers. “I don’t want you getting a headache.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your head is already throbbing dully. You decide not to share that. Water sounds really good. You nod and it makes everything spin as your head protests at the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need to come with me?” He asks, tucking a lock behind your ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay here,” you mumble. The bed feels like its pulling you deeper, sinking into the pillows and blankets. Your eyes burn with the desire to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed shifts as Asra gets up. You let your eyes flutter shut and focus on your breathing. Your leg starts to tingle, but moving is too much work, so you just let it fall asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You open your eyes when you feel Asra return. Moisture drips off the outside of the cup. It’s cold to the touch and you hastily gulp it down the second he hands it to you like it’s the most precious liquid in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmf,” you grunt, pulling Asra back down by the arm. He collapses next to you with a chuckle, and you latch on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You trace circles on Asra’s upper arm, up to his shoulder. “Asra…?” He looks at you so tenderly it makes you almost forget what you were going to say. “Do you ever… want to touch me? Like… you know.” It feels silly, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to?” He asks. He sounds genuinely curious but the question impales you with an icy spear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe? If it had to be anyone, I’d want it to be you. I’m not sure if I even want it at all, but I can’t help but wonder. Wonder what it’s like when you actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>want... </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be touched.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. “It doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be anything. I’m happy if you want it, and I’m happy if you don’t. Are you just thinking out loud?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” you mutter. “I just think about it sometimes, and I can think about it, but then it gets real and it scares me. I like you a lot- </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>you- and- and there’s a part of me that wants to try… just to see if I like it. But what if I’m bad at it? Or what if I freak out and it’s awkward?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” Asra asks, a bit out of nowhere, but you nod. He presses a close-mouth kiss to the corner of your mouth and it’s so soft you melt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back to look at you. “I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to, we never have to try anything. And if you do, we can go as slow as you want. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You flatten your palm on his shoulder, rubbing up and down his smooth skin. “I know.” It comes out far too meek and quiet. “I know I don’t.” You say it firmer this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra kisses you again, a little deeper. His teeth catch on your bottom lip and you let out a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>mm </span>
  </em>
  <span>that sounds more like a sigh. “Good,” Asra says between peppering your face with kisses. “I’m glad you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I want to try,” you manage, voice small. “Is… is that okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my love,” Asra sighs, and you’re confused for a moment before you’re pulled close to his chest, his arms tightening around you. “Of course it’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s… it’s not wrong to want it? It’s not… bad? It’s okay? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’ve never felt so safe with someone, skin-to-skin, yet here you are, both shirtless and perfectly comfortable. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have something in mind?” He sounds a bit coy, and he’s looking down at you with hooded eyes, curious as to where your wandering thoughts take you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W- well, no, I- not really,” you stutter. “Um. No… no handjobs. Giving, I mean. I- I just… it makes me think of...” You swallow a lump in your throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s thumb brushes your cheek. “That’s okay,” he assures you. “Anything else?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To- to be able to see you,” you say, more confident in voicing it this time. “I have to be able to see you… look at you- know it’s you...” You think about being on your hands and knees, someone behind you, looming, grabbing, and you shake. You curl into yourself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be able to see you, too,” Asra whispers, rubbing his thumb up and down your cheek reassuringly. “So it’s not a problem. I’ll get to see all the cute faces you make.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says it so casually, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>charmingly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that you flush all the way to the tips of your ears. Asra notices, and chuckles a little, kissing your cheek. “Sorry, sorry,” he says through his laugh. “Too much?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head. “No, no, it was… sweet.” Asra smiles at you, and it’s contagious. “Um… could you be… nice?” You fumble, because you realize you just implied Asra </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>nice to you already, and he is, so, so very nice to you. “I- I mean, when you were with Julian… you- um- I saw you were mean to him, ‘cause- ‘cause he liked it. Being called names and such…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra looks a bit aghast that you would have to ask such a thing, but then his expression relaxes into one of tender-heartedness, sweet and goopy like thick honey. His lips plant a kiss on the tip of your nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never degrade you unless that’s what you wanted,” Asra promises. “I’ll shower you in all the love and praise in the world, my dear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bury your face into the crook of his neck, feeling your cheeks grow warm again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Asra croons. “Is that what you like? Just when I think you can’t get anymore perfect. You’re so good baby, you make me feel so loved, it’s intoxicating.” His fingers course through your hair, hand moving along the side of your head, lightly petting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shivers run down your spine. You feel like melting in his touch. “I feel so…” you search for the right word. “Safe. When I’m with you.” You run your hands up his back, holding him close to you. “And I don’t feel weird talking about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra sits up on his elbow. “Talking about sex is never supposed to be uncomfortable.” The back of his hand strokes your cheek. “I’m sorry you ever felt like it was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake your head a little. “Not with you. It’s… different with you.” You breathe softly. The stuffiness in your nose is starting to clear. “It’s not like it was.” You put your hand to the side of his face and he leans into your touch. “I’m not scared if it’s with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra lifts your chin slightly with his hand and brings your lips to his. They’re warm and gentle and it makes your heart flutter. The kiss is slow and it feels like it lasts forever in the best way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you? Want to go back to sleep?” His thumb brushes up and down your cheekbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” you gasp quickly. Asra blinks twice, and you let out a slow breath. “Better, but… not yet.” You pull at the bedsheets with clammy hands. “I don’t wanna… dream.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra’s worry fades as realization dawns on him. What made you spiral in such a way. He runs a hand down your bare arm softly. “That’s okay, too.” He gives you a little squeeze. “We can just lay like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thumb rubs circles on your forearm and you let your eyes flutter half-shut in relaxation. Asra’s body is aglow with pale moonlight trickling in through the window, your eyes fixated on all of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Asra teases, poking your shoulder. He’s got a smirk on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head into the pillow. “You’re just… beautiful. I could stare at you all day and night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks darken with color. His mouth opens, then closes. You smile and huff a laugh through your nose. “You’re adorable,” you sigh. As much as Asra could flatter and tease, he almost always seemed at a loss for words when you did the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you steal my breath away,” Asra whispers back. “You always have.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about that strikes in you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You know he’s loved you longer than your memory stretches. But how long, really? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts you off swiftly. “Always.” It’s firmer this time. It stuns you into silence, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And you believe him. Just a few minutes ago half your face was covered in thin snot and crusty tears as Asra cleaned your face. Hell, your eyes were still probably bloodshot and puffy. But the way he looks at you never changes; so full of adoration it makes your head spin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scoot yourself closer so they only thing between you two is your hand over his heart. “I love you.” You say it with such resolve it surprises you a little. “Asra, I love you. I love you.” It’s all you know how to say. Saying anything else means thinking about formulating your words and you lack the energy. I love you works just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra understands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he understands. “I love you too,” he mutters. His nose nuzzles your hair. “You’re here with me. My love, my life… I love you too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadows are chased away. They run for cover in every direction, scattering. Asra’s love swells and fills the room. It’s almost palpable. You can feel the </span>
  <em>
    <span>intensity </span>
  </em>
  <span>in which he feels, and your magic meets his, and everything just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fits. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Asra and you lay like puzzle pieces meant to be together, falling into place so comfortably, so naturally. You can</span>
  <em>
    <span> finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>breathe again, and glass doesn’t puncture your lungs when you do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smells like sandalwood and lavender. It smells like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Asra. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You’ll feel like this again. As much as Asra loves you, and you know he does, it won’t fix you. But that's okay. Because when you do feel like this again, you know he’ll be there again. And it’ll be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re okay. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>soft asra fixes everything tbh</p></blockquote></div></div>
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